y's sisters owed him much
kindness for the trouble he was taking in going so far to carry them the
news in person. Not Harry's own particular news, Rose supposed, but
tidings of Will, and of all that was likely to interest them from both
sides of the sea.

"I would like to know why he calls him `poor Charlie,'" said Rose, with
a shrug. "I suppose, however, we must all seem like objects of
compassion to Harry, at the moment of his triumph, as none of us have
what has fallen to him."

Graeme went down without a word, smiling to herself as she went. She
had seen the postscript, and she thought she knew why Harry had written
"poor Charlie," but she said nothing to Rose. The subject of
conversation had changed during her absence, it seemed.

"I want to know! Do tell!" Mr Snow was saying. "I call that
first-rate news, if it is as you say, Mr Millar. Do the girls know it?
Graeme, do you know that Harry is going to be married."

"Yes, so Harry tells me."

"And who is the lady? Is it anyone we know about? Roxbury," repeated
Mr Snow, with a puzzled look. "But it seems to me I thought I heard
different. I don't seem to understand."

He looked anxiously into the face of his wife as though she could help
him.

"That's not to be wondered at," said she, smiling. "It seems Miss
Graeme herself has been taken by surprise. But she is well pleased for
all that. Harry has been in no great hurry, I think."

"But that ain't just as I understood it," persisted Mr Snow. "What
does Rose say? She told me this afternoon, when we were riding,
something or other, but it sartain wa'n't that."

"It could hardly be that, since the letter came when you were away, and
even Miss Graeme knew nothing of it till she got the letter," said Mrs
Snow, with some impatience.

"Rosie told me," went on Mr Snow. "Here she is. What was it you were
telling me this afternoon about--about our friend here?"

"Oh! I told you a great many things that it would not do to repeat,"
and though Rose laughed, she reddened, too, and looked appealingly at
Graeme.

"Wasn't Roxbury the name of the lady, that you told me was--"

"Oh! Uncle Sampson! Never mind."

"Dear me," said Mrs Snow, "what need you make a mystery out of such
plain reading. Miss Graeme has gotten a letter telling her that her
brother Harry is going to be married; and what is there so wonderful
about that?"

"Just so," said Mr Snow. He did not understand it the least in the